


Happy Little Trees

by Fightslikeagirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:50:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4294824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightslikeagirl/pseuds/Fightslikeagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve discovers both the good and bad side of the Internet. Specifically YouTube.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Little Trees

**Author's Note:**

> VERY MINOR ULTRON SPOILERS. Like really minor. Like probably not actually worth mentioning but I'm doing it anyway.

The first time Steve had found YouTube, he’d made the mistake of reading the comments. It had been a completely innocuous video of a dog on a surfboard, but somehow the comment section had devolved into a discussion of current politics, and one of the commenters called the other one “Hitler.” Steve, naturally, had to comment and tell them exactly what he thought of such comparisons, and it had taken Tony a good day and a half to stop laughing long enough to get the comments deleted.

  
Natasha had explained to him that the first rule of the internet is to never, ever read the comments, and that there were a lot of things like tutorials and documentaries on the site that were incredibly useful. He filed that information away, and pretty much forgot about it for months. They were incredibly busy attempting to save the world from aliens, so he really hadn’t had time to watch very many cat videos.

  
A few months later, in a fit of insomnia, after he’d destroyed every single punching bag in the entire Tower, he decided to try out the oil paint set that Pepper had given him for his birthday. It had been years since he’d painted anything (obviously) and the oil paints Pepper had found for him were no doubt of better quality than anything he’d ever laid eyes on in the 1940’s. So he decided to revisit the site (this time with a helpful program courtesy of JARVIS to prevent the comments from even showing up) in order to find some of those helpful tutorials that Natasha mentioned.  
The first ones he found were lackluster, but then he stumbled across one that looked like it might work. The video quality was not nearly as good as some of the others, and the man talking had an enormous amount of hair, but he spoke in kind, encouraging tones, and talked a lot about happy trees and streams and rocks. It quickly became apparent to Steve that the paints he was using weren’t right for the kind of painting the man was doing, but he watched the videos anyway. Something about the man was mesmerizing.  
Steve didn’t even recall falling asleep, but he woke up the next morning with his borrowed tablet on the pillow next to him. He must have gotten into bed at some point, but when, he wasn’t entirely sure. From then on, however, he always looked up those videos whenever he couldn’t sleep. The man’s voice and the quiet noises of the brush on canvas put him to sleep more effectively than any of the dozens of medications Tony had produced for him.

  
***

  
Bucky came back about a week after they managed to take down Tony’s faulty science project. Ultron nearly killing everyone had been televised extensively, and something deep down in Bucky’s subconscious had fought its way through the walls of the Winter Soldier at the thought of Steve in danger. He’d shown up on the doorstep of the new SHIELD headquarters, bedraggled and missing his metal arm. Upon further investigation, it was shoved into a backpack that contained all of his worldly possessions, which consisted of a hoodie, some socks, a ticket for the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, and a couple of knives.

  
From his stilted responses, they determined that he’d pried it off to disable the tracking mechanisms, and had discovered that it contained several dispensers for sedatives and other drugs meant to keep him compliant. He’d spent days detoxing from them, even with the serum. When Steve managed to convince him to take off his disgusting clothes and take a shower, he discovered that Bucky was emaciated under the loose shirt and pants.

  
After the shower, Bucky had wolfed down an entire roasted chicken, two pounds of macaroni and cheese, and every ounce of ice cream in the freezer. He’d then promptly fallen asleep for two days.

  
The weeks after he returned were fraught, to say the least. Sometimes Steve could have sworn his best friend hadn’t changed at all, and other times the Soldier took hold and wouldn’t go away. Neither personality seemed inclined to harm anyone but HYDRA agents, and both of them (and the shades between) seemed very much determined not to allow any harm to come to Steve.

  
Bucky had been mostly successful, right up until the moment when he wasn’t. They were cleaning out a HYDRA base in Moldova when a scientist decided to detonate his lab, rather than let SHIELD find out what he’d been working on. Steve had tried to dive out of the line of fire, but the blast sent him through two cinderblock walls.

  
He almost didn’t make it. Bucky had spent the entire time glued to his side, eyes haunted. He wouldn’t talk, eat, or sleep. When Steve had finally woken up, Natasha had sternly told Bucky that if he didn’t sleep and eat, she was going to force him, and she’d enlist the help of the Hulk if she had to.

  
Bucky only backed down when she exasperatedly pointed out that the extra-large hospital bed was wide enough for him to squeeze in. Her eyes were pure mischief as she said it, and Steve blushed bright red but agreed weakly that it was okay and pleaded with Bucky with his absurd blue eyes. It had taken a little bit of doing, but Bucky finally settled in next to Steve and tried his best to fall asleep. The doctor’s reassurance that Steve was out of the woods and that he was stable were what had finally quieted his nerves.

  
Sleep came, at last, but it wasn’t restful. He kept seeing Steve falling into the river, and slamming through those walls with a sickening crack. He woke up with a start at sometime around 1 AM to Steve’s weak, quiet voice trying to call him back.

  
“It’s okay, Buck. I’m okay, I promise. I’m right here. Wake up, Bucky, come on.” He looked slightly frantic.

  
Bucky sat up with a jolt, looking around at the darkened hospital bay. He looked back down at Steve, who had that godawful look of utterly sincere concern on his face. Or the parts of his face that were visible under the bruises, anyway. “I’m so sorry, Steve. Fucking nightmares. This was a bad idea--.”

  
“No! No…please stay…. I’m fine. You were crying in your sleep and I…I know how....” He went quiet for a minute. “I get them too.”

  
Bucky nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Steve.

  
“Hey, I know something that might help us both sleep.”

  
“Yeah?” He didn’t look up.

  
“Grab that tablet off the table?”

  
Bucky slid out of the bed and retrieved the tablet. He was going to hand it to Steve, then remembered that it’d probably be easier if they weren’t depending on Steve’s fine motor control to get anything done. He was far better with technology than Steve was, anyway. “What am I looking for?”

  
“Go to YouTube and look up Bob Ross.”

  
Bucky found the channel. “Steve, these are painting videos.”

  
He blushed. “I know, but just watch one. They’re really calming.”

  
Bucky shrugged, figuring that it couldn’t hurt, and picked an episode called “whispering stream.” Within minutes, the man’s soothing tone had washed away the last vestiges of the nightmare’s adrenaline. Bucky turned on the autoplay, dimmed the backlight, and snuggled carefully into Steve’s side.  
Neither one of them remembered dozing off. Natasha found them in the morning with the tablet completely out of batteries, and with Bucky drooling slightly onto Steve’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've posted in...10ish years? Oh well, it was bound to come back and haunt me again eventually. 
> 
> Dedicated to Bob Ross, who made us all want to paint happy trees.


End file.
